


blood of the covenant, water of womb

by gay_bird



Category: Kapitán Stein a notár Barbarič - Juraj Červenák
Genre: 16th Century CE, Alternate Universe, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jaros Doesn’t Understand How Affection Works, Minor Character Death, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Canon, Siblings, Stein Is a Good Dad, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 01:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20884280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gay_bird/pseuds/gay_bird
Summary: Dorota Jaroš is three when her brother is born. She is six when she promises her mother that she will take care of him no matter what. She is fifteen when she leaves him behind and doesn't look back.alternatively: an AU in which Bohdan's sister lives and things go a little differently





	blood of the covenant, water of womb

Dorota Jaroš is three years old when her brother is born. She is too young to comprehend what is happening and why is her mother screaming so much. She is old enough to clutch the midwife’s apprentice’s skirt and stifle her crying when her father passes by, his body steely with tension. She is too young to understand what's happening when they take him to church just hours later and bring him back as Bohdan Jaroš, the future head executioner of the old city of Prague. She is too young to understand why her father named him “a gift from God” and let her name be decided by her mother’s side of the family. Years later, a student of philosophy in a tavern in Moravia tells her Dorota means “a gift from God”, his eyes not leaving her cleavage. She laughs and shifts closer to him and his purse. 

Bohdan Jaroš is six years old when he realizes there is something wrong with him. It’s not because of the way other children avoid him whenever he is allowed to go out to the street. He knows that that’s because of who his father is. It’s not because of the way his father’s apprentices look at him when he helps out in the workshop. He knows because his father tells him after he finds him inspecting the insides of a dead cat. He knows because of the way his mother stops defending him when Václav tells her what he had done. He knows because when Dorota comes to his room in the night and curls up in his bed he pushes her off and tells her to leave. Bohdan sleeps alone that night and every night after that, and something inside of him, that sounds suspiciously like his father, tells him it’s for the best.

Dorota Jaroš is twelve years old when her mother dies. The funeral is a small affair. No one cares for the death of an executioner’s wife. Dorota stands above the grave, ankle-deep in slowly melting snow, with only her father and brother by her side. The priest talks and she can’t focus on anything but the shape of a body in the pit below her. Her hands still sting from tying the knots on the burial shroud. She rubs them together to warm herself and not think about the way her mother's hands felt in hers. Her father says nothing and neither does Bohdan. They stand above the grave, unmoving and near-identical in their black clothing and blank expressions. Dorota wishes she could be like them, unmoved by the shape of her mother in the pit below them. The remaining members of the Jaroš family stand in slowly melting snow, still and silent.

Bohdan Jaroš is twelve years old when his sister disappears. He accompanies his father for one of the executions outside of Prague and puts on his first noose, and when they return two days later, the house is empty. Dorota is gone. Bohdan doesn’t ask and his father doesn’t answer. They go on with their lives as if there wasn’t an empty room next to his. There is a new housemaid, that is all. Bohdan does not speak and his father doesn’t either as they eat the dinner prepared by her. It’s unfamiliar and unpleasant but he doesn’t complain. Neither of them does. Weeks later, someone asks about her after the Sunday mass. That’s when he learns she is dead. A quickly striking illness, much like her mother, the poor thing. Bohdan does ask his father about it later that day.  
“Some things are better off as dead,” he says and that’s it. Bohdan returns to practicing with the longsword and they eat their dinner in silence. He does stand in front of the empty room next to his for a second longer than usual that night, that is all.

Dorota Jaroš is twenty-three years old when she sees her brother again. She is safe now. She has a place to stay and enough money to ensure that in a couple of months when the rumors that come with being a young, unmarried woman offering the service of a Kräuterweib become too much again, she’ll be able to leave Pilsen behind. She is free. 

The man in front of her, well fed and well clothed, squirms under her stare, his eyes running over the jars and bushels of dried plants lining the walls of the room and back to her.  
“I need help with a medical issue and I’ve heard from a trustworthy source that you might help me with such things quickly and discreetly,” he explains and her eyes don’t leave his face.  
“Your source was trustworthy, my sir. What may I help you with?”  
A nervous laugh makes it through his lips and into the heavy air of the room, “Oh, it’s not for me but a… friend. He has been afflicted with sudden onsets of headaches for several months now, but they have proven quite impractical in our current predicament, and he needs some treatment to stave them off for the time being.”  
“Headaches, sir?”  
“Yes.”  
“What kind?”  
“My apologies, I don’t think that I…”  
“In what area is the pain the strongest? How long do the attacks last? Are there any other symptoms? Dizziness, loss of balance, sensitivity to light?” She stares at him as if she could read all of the answers from the nervous creases on his forehead.  
“Well, I am not quite certain about most of these things but I…”  
“May I see him, sir?”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Your friend. I’m much more likely to offer you something useful if I’m able to examine him, “ her eyes finally drop and she puts a mortar and a pestle on the table in front of her. 

It takes just a couple of moments to get his companion. He must have been waiting outside the entrance to the windowless room on the back of a candlemaker’s shop. Dorota watches his silhouette, framed by the grey light from behind the closing doors, become a person as he steps into the light of the lanterns. He is younger, younger than his companion, younger than Dorota, dressed in military clothing, with snow melting on the brim of his hat and folds of his cloak. He takes off his hat and bows his head in a greeting, and she sees his face properly for the first time. It has the quality of belonging to someone who has been going on reserves their body didn’t have in the first place for far too long, pale skin taut on his cheekbones and dark under the eyes. Under the eyes belonging to her father. She stares into the face of the military dressed stranger and the face of her brother looks back at her.  
Dorota Jaroš sees her brother for the first time after eight years and the first thing she says to him is his name, spoken in a tone that implies unspoken history and regret. The second thing she says to him is, “What in the Lord’s name are you doing in Pilsen? And who the fuck is that?” It takes her and Matej Barbarič solid ten minutes to persuade him that he is not hallucinating again.

Bohdan Jaroš is twenty years old when he speaks to his sister about their home. The case is over, Stein is free, Barbarič is reveling in the fact that they averted another scandal, the archduke is pleased. And he is sitting in front of a fireplace in the Stein residence, barely able to register the warmth of the cup of spiced wine in his hands. He should be at the court right now, doing his duty alongside his superiors but he is not needed. They are able to ensure that justice will be followed through on their own. He needs to rest, they tell him, the physician tells him, his sister tells him. He barely survived this time. The injuries were severe and one of these days he is not going to wake up after being knocked unconscious. He can barely register the pain. The only thing that seems real is the pulsating in his head and the flickering of flames in front of him.  
“So, our father is dead,” his sister breaks the silence. She is seated next to him, the firelight reflecting off her face and the cup she is idly spinning between two fingers. Bohdan nods.  
“And you didn’t take over his post,” Dorota still doesn’t look at him.  
“I didn’t.”  
“I heard stories, you know. Rumors of the archduke’s hound named Stein, a ruthless servant of the crown and of his right-hand-man, or demon as some say. Of a stone-cold bastard with an executioner’s sword and no remorse. But I never thought... I never thought that you would do that.”  
He looks up from the flames, “Do what?”  
“I don’t know,” she chuckles, even if a bit hysterically, “Leave home? Become a soldier? Disobey father?”  
“Well, I did do all of those things.”  
She stays silent after that. Finally, she turns to face him and he cannot for the love of god decipher the emotion on her face.  
“What happened, Bohdan? I know we haven’t seen each other for eight years but I know something is wrong. And I want to help. So please, just tell me what happened that made you leave home.”  
Bohdan just observes the way her eyes reflect the golden light, just like their mother’s did. There are thousands of things that he wants to say but the only thing that passes his lips is, “Why?”.  
Dorota doesn’t understand and that gives him enough time for more things to burst out. He is quite certain that he couldn’t stop it, even if he tried.  
“Why are you doing this? Why do you come back after you have left me for eight years and tell me that you want to help? Why do you think you have the right to do that after you’ve left me there? I thought you were dead, Dorota. I persuaded myself that you were dead and that I had no one but father. And when I destroyed even that, you weren’t there. So why do you think that you have the right to come back now?” His voice doesn’t shake. He speaks calmly and measuredly and his voice doesn’t shake. Dorota does.  
“I...I’m sorry, Bohdan. I didn’t know. I thought you were still back home and,” her voice trails off. “By the blood of the saints, I didn’t know you left. I thought...I thought that I would just wait until you take over after father, and come back. That I would explain what happened to you and we would just… we could have a life together. I didn’t want to leave you. I didn’t want you to get hurt!”  
Bohdan downs the wine and places the cup on a serving table next to him. His head is pulsating with pain. His head is pulsating with pain and he cannot concentrate and he wishes that for just once he could be broken just a bit less.  
“Then why did you leave?”, his voice is hollow, “If you wanted to have a life together, why did you disappear without saying anything?”  
Dorota grips the stem of her glass so hard she’s worried it might break, “What else was I supposed to do? Tell me! Was I supposed to stay there and wait until you’re old enough to get a wife and once you wouldn’t need me to take care of the house, get sold off to someone desperate enough to marry an executioner’s daughter? Was I supposed to wait until one day father pushed hard enough to make me hit my head and bleed out? Or just waste away like mother? Yes, I left you behind and it was selfish. But you tell me, what would have you done if I told you? If I told you that I was running away because our father was a selfish, cruel bastard who hurt his own family to make them in his image? You would have told him, Bohdan. Because no matter how much he hurt you, or mother, or me, he was always the one in right, wasn’t he?” She takes a shaky breath, putting the cup down and gripping the armrests of her chair instead as if trying to steady herself against the tremors running through her body.  
“I left because I didn’t have any other options. It was either that or death. You had chosen a long time before me when you started believing that you are the monster he made you out to be. I loved you, Bohdan. And I still do. But I knew that you would never accept that father might be the one who’s wrong,” Dorota stops and looks at him, at the way his eyes reflect the golden light, just like their mother’s did. When she speaks again, there is a tightness in her throat she hasn’t felt in years, “But you did. You left him and that place behind and look, we are back together. Maybe, maybe this is it. Maybe we can start together anew.”  
Bohdan goes still and something reminds him of the feeling of an arrow piercing his guts in those vineyards in Prague’s New City.  
“Father was wrong about a lot of things, you are right. You didn’t deserve the way he treated you and neither did mother, “ he looks at her and she would swear she can see something in him break, “but have you considered he might have been right about me?”  
Nothing but the crackling of the fire echoes in the room.  
“Dorotka, when I left home I...was not just leaving, I was running away from consequences. Father was right, I am a monster. And when it finally showed, I ran. I deserved everything he had done to me.”  
She stands up and walks up in front of him, kneeling as she grabs his hands in hers. He freezes at the touch and wants nothing more than to get away from her, but Dorota doesn’t let go.  
“I will not let the judgment on what you are, be done by anyone for me. So, by the Lord’s mercy, I beg you, tell me what happened.” And he does. 

Joachim Stein finds them hours later in front of the last dying embers. Dorota is still on the floor in front of Bohdan’s chair, but sitting down instead of kneeling, with her brother’s head in her lap. He is asleep, Stein realizes as he steps closer, noticing Jaroš’ unusual laxness and her fingers carefully running through his hair.  
He steps into the dim light of the fireplace and lightly clears his throat, “Leopold said you asked the servants to leave you alone about three hours ago and no one has arrived or left ever since. I just wanted to make sure that, um, that nothing inappropriate was going on in here.”  
Dorota looks up at him, her eyes damp but happy, “Everything is alright, captain. Bohdan just passed out on me, and I didn’t want to wake him. He needs the rest.”  
“I suppose he does. He has lost quite a lot of blood after all. It would be preferable if he was resting in a more proper setting, but it’s too late to cry over spilled milk, “ Stein’s gaze softens a little, but his body grows even tenser, “So did you talk about…”  
“Markéta? Yes,” her smile grows a bit more self-assured than gentle, but she doesn't let go of her brother, “Also about the other things. The visions, the cases, you and your family.” Stein frowns, but she continues before he can say anything, “I wanted to thank you, sir. You have helped Bohdan immensely. You took him in when he had no one and for that, I am in your debt. And that even though it pains me to see him become a part of a family I will never belong to, it brings me even greater joy to see that he has found a place for himself.”  
He stands there, uncertain of what he’s feeling before he answers in an ever so strained voice, “My lady, I have not done anything for your brother that he didn’t deserve by his actions. He has fought and suffered a far greater deal than I could ever give back to him, and I can only pray that it is enough in the eyes of God as well. But what I can guarantee is that whoever he considers family will always have a place in my home.” At that, Dorota Jaroš bursts to tears for the fifth time that evening.

Bohdan Jaroš is twenty years old when he wakes up in a bed in the residence of Leopold Stein in Pilsen, sore and exhausted beyond comprehension. He wakes up to the irritated grumbling of captain Stein and Barbarič’ sing-song retorts. As he regains more of his senses he hears the light chuckle of his sister (undoubtedly scandalous in captain’s eyes) and catches a draft of one of her herbal concoctions she’ll no doubt make him drink. Bohdan Jaroš is twenty years old when he realizes he has found a home.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed my work! A couple of notes for reference.
> 
> 1\. The characters are from a Czech/Slovak book series called The Cases of Captain Stein and Notary Barbaric, which are detective novels set in the late 16th/early 17th century Hungarian and Czech Kingdom and it’s pretty great. Sadly, it only exists in Czech and Slovak but a television show based on one of the books should come out in the next two years and I really hope it’ll bring more focus onto this wonderful series.
> 
> 2\. Dorota is my OC based on an offhand comment in the second book about Jaroš' dead mother and sister. Big thanks to the loveliest Izvin for choosing her name and supporting me during the chaos that was writing this fic. Go check her out here on AO3 for some amazing Stein&Barbaric content.


End file.
